Blades of Glass
by dragonslayerX19
Summary: Celaena breaks Dorian out of the castle and with the help of Chaol, Ren, Rowan, Manon, and others, they vow to conquer the King of Adarlan, no matter what the cost. I shant ruin the pairings but it's pretty damned obvious. :) The rating might change later, but it's T as of now.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! It's Ash. Hey look, I'm writing Throne of Glass :) I just really like the series and its dynamic so I thought I'd develop an idea I had. I hope you enjoy! I in no way own the Throne of Glass series, Sarah J. Maas does, and she uses that privilege to repeatedly tear me apart.**

He was in darkness. He couldn't feel anything except for the cold stone around his neck.

He was in agony. His head practically split open in pain and his body shook as he heaved the meager contents of his stomach onto the floor.

This was what it had been like for the three weeks after Dorian had stood up to the King of Adarlan, revealing his magic for all to see. Chaol had escaped and by rumor he'd heard that Celaena's dog Fleetfoot had disappeared with him. For three weeks, he had been beaten and tortured and starved. Haunted also, by the memory of Sorscha's death. He didn't know how much longer he would last. He knew though, that any second now, the agony would start once more, make him feel like his entire body was on fire.

But then he felt something. Something other than the smooth rock around his neck. He felt something…soft against his face. Hands. Small, skilled hands were pushing his hair back gently from his face. They moved downwards and off his face altogether. He nearly screamed. He longed for the softness the person's hands, longed for them to touch his face, to spark even a little bit of hope within him. He leaned upwards, desperate not to lose the only feeling he'd had in weeks. That's when he felt the tug on his neck. He heard a soft tapping sound, like metal on stone, and another tug. He reached up to his neck but hands pushed his down. The same ones, but now he could feel the light callouses on the joints between her fingers and her palm. Yes, he'd deciphered it was a girl, boys just didn't have hands that small. One last tug and the darkness shattered, a feeling like cold, wintry air, hitting him full on. The Crown Prince's sapphire eyes opened slowly to be met by a similar pair. Except hers had a dab of green and gray. And a ring of gold.

Celaena Sardothien hovered above him, worry clear in her eyes. He would've sat up if his body didn't feel like it had been stampeded on my Adarlan's entire cavalry.

"Ce..lean..a?"

"Dorian?" her voice was hushed, but panicked, as though she couldn't believe he was alive.

The prince's eyes went unfocused for a moment, but as his sight returned his senses did too.

"Celaena? Celaena, by the Wyrd what are you doing here?"

The assassin nearly cried with relief and grabbed his face in her hands, leaning her forehead against his.

"Gods above, thank goodness, _thank goodness_. I was afraid I was going to lose you."

"Lose me?"

Dorian sat up slowly, eyes never once leaving the form of the lost princess of Terrasen, huddled over him. Realization hit him all at once and he keeled over, gasping for breath. He would've hit the floor had Celaena not wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rest his head against her chest.

"Breathe, Dorian, breathe."

"Sorscha…Chaol…my dad…the collar."

The words tumbled out as, for the first time in a while, coherent thoughts began to form in his mind. Celaena rocked him back and forth as best as she could, whispering comforting words in his ears. He was trembling, he realized, shaking like there was an earthquake and only he could feel it. He closed his eyes and leaned against Celaena, taking in her familiar scent and focusing on his breaths. In. Out. In. Out.

After not moving for what seemed like hours, he shifted his head, looking up at the assassin holding him up. He didn't wish to mull over his thoughts any longer. It made him sick.

"Celaena?" he asked.

She looked down at him, moving her hands so she could help him sit up.

"Dorian."

"Celaena, why are you here?" He didn't dare hope, but he was going crazy not knowing if Chaol had found her.

"He found me, she whispered. Chaol and Ren they came looking for me, and Chaol told me what happened. I was high up North in the Queen's territory, but we arranged everything immediately and I got here as fast as I could. I had to switch horses quite a few times and I rode through the nights until I couldn't stay up any longer or the horse needed a rest. I'm sorry I didn't get here faster." She traced his face gently. He looked half as bad as she had after they had taken her out of Endovier. Not quite as skinny and nowhere near as dirty, but he had lost a significant amount of weight and his skin was a pallid color.

"Sorry? What could there possibly be to be sorry about? You saved me. Saved me from that awful-"

He cut off. His voice wouldn't work. Celaena understood, nodding softly. He couldn't talk about it yet. It was too soon.

"We have to leave soon," she started, "I came in through your window. Do you…do you think you're ready for a climb?"

She bit her lip. In his state she wouldn't have even attempted a climb before she had eaten a Yulemas feast through. But they had to go, they were running out of time. She looked back at him to see him nodding, his eyes trained on the window before sliding back to hers.

"I'll be fine." he said.

—

They made their way to the window, Celaena going down first. She'd climbed a short drain pipe before tossing a weighted rope onto his window ledge, the metal hooks scraping against the cement. Now, Dorian sat, one foot in his room, the other hanging off the ledge as he waited, looking down to see the two guards she'd knocked out sprawled in a heap of limbs, their weapons impaled in trees across the courtyard. The prince turned to look at his room, the place he'd been housed for nineteen years. This glass castle of horrors. He felt no sadness. Looking down to see the assassin waiting on the ground below, he swung his other leg onto the ledge, then eased himself off, his hands reaching across the rope and shimmying down the drain pipe. His arms and legs burned from underuse as he hit the ground with jarring force. He panted lightly, swearing at his sudden lack of physical strength.

"I see you haven't lost your colorful vocabulary."

Dorian turned to look at the assassin, a small smile curling his lips upward. But it was a smile of someone who had nearly been broken, who was teetering on the cliff of losing everything they'd ever had. It was a close to shattered smile, but one that was capable of healing. And Celaena knew he would. He always would.

She grabbed a velvety, gray-green cloak, similar to the one she wore, off the saddle of her chestnut brown horse, tossing it to him. He caught it and pulled it on, fastening the strings and tugging the hood up as she did the same. She stood by the horse, silently, waiting for him to make a move. He turned one last time to look at the crystalline palace, then turned and walked toward the horse, mounting behind Celaena so she would have control over the reigns. He studied her as they sat there for a moment, and he could tell that the moment he saw her, old feelings had started to resurface. The prince had thought that those feelings were gone, or at least that he'd buried them, but now…now he was remembering the night of the Yulemas ball when he had..no-no. He shook his head, clearing the memory. Now wasn't the time to think about things like that.

Celaena turned in her seat, swing her legs around so that she faced him, and lifted his chin to look at him. Seeing the sadness, the utter broken look in his eyes, she wanted to cry. His once charming, joyful eyes, glinting with that undoubted mischief, were the exact opposite of what they used to be. The spark was gone, the humor and charm replaced by sadness. Without meaning to, Celaena reached up and pulled his head down, pressing her lips to his forehead. She had meant it to be comforting, but Dorian knew that tis wasn't the kind of kiss one gave their friend, or brother, and he felt his walls cracking. So he pulled away from her gently, looking in to her eyes. "Do you intend to make me cry, or are you just foolish?" he repeated her words from the day he'd visited her again. A few days after her battle with Cain. She nodded her understanding, reading the words behind his quote. _Not now. I'll fall apart._She knew that look like the back of her hand. She'd had it when she lost Sam, when she had made her first kill. She understood how he felt. He had to hold himself together until they reached their rest spot, and she wasn't going to make it any harder for him. The assassin flashed him a smile before twisting back around. She caught the soft, sad smile he sent back. Dorian shifted, wrapping his arms around her waist, and Celaena's cheeks flushed hot and red. Shaking away her blush she dug her heels into the horse's sides and whispered, "Hold on tight." And as they set off into the forest, the sound of hoofbeats nearly drowned out his reply. But her assassin trained ears picked it up.

"I always do."

**Yay..Chapter 1 done! There are definitely more to come. I hope you guys liked it :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! I finally got done with the new chapter for the Throne of Glass story! Hope you like it!**

It was tiring she knew, riding for this long. But Dorian was making a real effort to stay awake. His head rested on her shoulder, blue eyes lazily scanning their surroundings as they thundered through the wood, farther and farther away from the horrid glass structure behind them.

"You should move."

Celaena's head shot up and she turned, finding herself immersed in the sapphire sea of his eyes.

"I should what?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

He laughed, as if that was the reaction he'd expected, but it cut of abruptly, pain flickering across his features. She didn't like it. She wanted to hear him laugh again, dry-throated as it was. She had given him water at the beginning of the ride, but he still sounded like his throat had been scraped raw.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said, regaining his composure, "I mean that you've been sitting in the same position since we left, which, judging by the sun, was three and a half hours ago. Your legs are going to get really cramped if you continue to assume that position."

Celaena snorted. It was such a childish thing to worry about in times of such chaos, but she supposed every piece of energy she had, she should save for when they were in dire need of it.

"Well what do you suppose I do?"

Dorian smiled, "We're far from the palace, you can afford to slow down. Sit sidesaddle for a while. I promise you won't slip," he added with his charming little wink that she had become so accustomed to over the past year. But something about the gesture was off. He had delivered it perfectly. Too perfectly. She studied him for a moment, realizing now that he was in a much worse shape than she had originally thought he was. Over her heady joyfulness after seeing him alive and in one piece, she had neglected the information of what had happened to him these last three weeks. But she needed him to maintain this facade, at least until they got to the hotel. If he lost it on the way she didn't know what she would do, but she wouldn't blame him. He had been through a lot.

"Ok," was all she replied with.

She slowed the horse to peaceful trot, and shifted in the saddle, pulling her left leg over so she sat sideways, her legs hanging off. As she moved she realized the prince had been right. Her legs ached from being stiffly molded to the sides of the horse as they'd galloped away from the palace. She grunted as she finally managed to set both her legs in the most comfortable position one could muster while sitting sidesaddle on a horse. She felt Dorian's arms shift around her, pressing into her side instead, to keep her from falling. The assassin turned to fix him with a stare.

"What about you? You've been on this horse as long as I have."

He shrugged, "I wasn't the one at the reins, plus I learned a trick from Brullo when I was really young. Shift your legs every twenty minutes or so, even if it's only fractional. It'll keep the blood flowing in your legs, and they won't hurt as much when you get down."

Celaena simply nodded in return, turning once more to look ahead, resting her head on Dorian's collarbone. He didn't do anything so she sensed it was alright, that she wasn't pushing him. He set his own head down, albeit slowly, pressing his nose into her hair. And so they sat for the next hour or so, not quite thinking, but their minds not completely blank either. It was a comfortable silence, one that did not need words or gestures to fill the time.

But that was when they made a mistake.

The prince and princess had been so relaxed that they had failed to take in their surroundings. Without noticing, they had entered the forest near the manor of Duke Perrington.

An arrow flew from one of the trees and nearly missed them. If it hadn't been for Celaena's excellent hearing and Dorian's quick action, their horse would've been punctured in the heart.

The assassin had heard a soft whistling and had immediately associated it with that of an arrow. The second she tensed, the Crown prince had become alert too, grabbing the reins and digging his heels into the horse's side as they rode forward, taking up a pace any racehorse owner would have been proud of. As they shot through the woods, Celaena caught a glimpse of a white wall embedded with gold. It was minuscule, but it had been enough. The golden eagle of Adarlan. They were passing through a noble's land. The assassin cursed under her breath as she swung forward once more, grabbing hold of the reins. It had been such an amateur mistake! If they had taken one of the small, windy, trails nearby they could've completely avoided it. Behind her, Celaena heard Dorian releasing a string of familiar curses, as angry with himself as she was with herself. They had ridden far past where the arrow had been shot, but both knew this was nowhere near the end. Judging by the manor's immense size, it belonged to someone of extremely high rank, most likely, Perrington. And if either of the two knew anything about Perrington, it was that he'd have the land rigged miles out in every direction from his manor. Celaena felt something shift and heard a snap behind her. She spared a glance to see Dorian standing up, yanking a large branch off a tree.

"What are you doing?" she yelled into the wind.

"Precautions, my dearest assassin. I'd rather be armed, even if it was with a pathetic tree branch," he yelled back.

Celaena didn't laugh however. He was smart. If used correctly, he could use the tree branch to swat or take the full weight of arrows and knives thrown at them. At the speed they were going, a sword would be completely useless, and Celaena had heard several thunks behind her, which she was familiar with. The sound of metal hitting wood. She nearly missed the soft whistle over the sound of the wind roaring in her ears, but she called out. She had no need to, however, as Dorian had been listening intently as well. A well thrown knife that could have very well impaled her spine, landed with loud thunk in the wooden bough the prince held. Pulling the branch back towards him, Dorian yanked the knife out and slipped it into his belt. You could never be too prepared.

The farther they got, the more arrows, daggers, and knives flew at the, from all sides. Dorian's branch headstone so heavy, he'd had to drop it and tug off another one. That had resulted in him nearly taking a knife to the shoulder. Though because he had turned, the knife had nicked him, and proceeded to embed itself in the very tree he'd grabbed the branch from.

As the flying projectiles increased, the prince shifted, using his long body to cover her much smaller one. Celaena would never admit, but her cheeks looked like they'd been painted in strawberry juice. He leaned over, his lips brushing her ear and whispered, "Move a little faster if you can, I know a shortcut off the forest on Perrington's land about a quarter mile up ahead."

Celaena nodded as best as she could, spurring the horse to go faster, whispering encouragements and promises of rest she knew it couldn't understand. They had done a pretty decent job of warding away the immense amount of weaponry that had been pointed at them. Celaena flinging an occasional knife backwards and knocking a soldier out of a tree. She took quick stock of what the situation looked like and grimaced. Their were several holes in the saddle, where arrows had punctured it, and one of the side harnesses Dorian had had to fasten into a quick knot to keep them from falling off after a knife had cut it. So far the horse nor the two astride it had taken any major blows, but both prince and assassin sported a number of cuts and bruises, Dorian the worse of the two. As they rode on, Celaena found the shortcut the prince had informed her about earlier, barely visible in the thick grove of trees surrounding it. Perrington's guards would have no chance the second they got through there, but it was still about three hundred yards away. Celaena bit the inside of her cheek, pushing the equine faster and faster, dashing the last few hundred feet. That was when it happened.

A knife flew in a direct line towards the one spot Dorian couldn't cover. Her hip. The area was mostly bone so it wouldn't sink in that far, but it would hit her with enough force to knock her off the horse. If they were lucky, her tumbling would in turn cause the prince to fall as well, and both would be in the custody of Adarlan. So Dorian did the only thing he could do, he swung his leg up and gritted his teeth as the knife sank into his thigh. Celaena swore as they crossed the threshold of the secret pathway, riding out a mile before she came to a stop, whirling in the saddle to face Dorian and take a look at his leg. Seeing him, she realized that he had taken the knife out, frowning.

"Why did you do that? Protecting me was one thing you'll hear about later, but why did you take the knife out? That's stupid Dorian, it would've contained the blood flow better until it clotted."

"Yes and it also would've allowed the poison it was dipped in to spread farther into my body."

At this Celaena's head shot up. "It was poisoned?"

He nodded, "I could tell the second it broke through my skin that there was something wrong with it. There was this awful tingly sensation all around the wound."

Celaena swore, but the prince shook his head.

"Relax, it was a knife. The amount of poison they dipped it in couldn't possibly do something of detrimental effect. Even if it was bloodbane."

The assassin nodded her understanding, but still inspected his leg. After a few minutes she looked up. "I can't tell exactly what poison it is because it's symptoms are ones that many have, and its differentiating factors have been cleverly hidden. But it's not one that's super effective or harmful." She tore a strip from her cloak and wrapped it around his wound after carefully cutting away the fabric of his pants. Whoever Perrington had set those traps for, he had wanted them alive and unharmed as possible, possibly to test those awful rings and collars on. Or maybe to torture them even more. You could never tell with someone as awful as he. Finishing her makeshift cast, Celaena sat back to evaluate her work.

"It'll do for now, I'll be able to better treat it once we get to the safe location."

He nodded, "You might be able to use one of the cures I swiped from the castle."

The assassin looked up, surprised, as the prince shifted his cloak, showing her the glass bottles wedged into his belt. She hadn't even seen him take them, he'd been so fast and discreet. Realization took her as she realized he'd learned all these little skills from her. Skills she'd used for survival. Skills he needed to survive now. It was good thinking on his part, and she would've been proud. But she knew he never would've been forced to acquire these skills had they never met at all. Their lives wouldn't be this mess. She looked up into is eyes, as she had come to do for comfort, expecting to see pain or blankness, but instead seeing trust and hope. The prince's own hope spurred hers and he smiled a little. Celaena smiled back and turned once more in the worn down saddle.

With a glance over her back, they set off, with no knowledge of what was to come next.

**So that was Chapter 2 :) Don't worry they'll get a bit of a break next chapter. Probably. Who knows? Feel free to send in any suggestions or requests of characters you'd like to see more. Rowan was requested quite a few times and don't worry, he'll be there in later chapters for sure. So I leave you with this :P Bye!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys I'm back! I'm so SO sorry. I haven't updated for like a month. I got super caught up in testing and work in school and I wasn't able to write. But here is chapter 3! I hope you guys enjoy it :)**

They'd arrived at the safe house under the cover of midnight a day later. It was far and Celaena had been worried about Dorian's leg, but staying anywhere closer to the Glass City would've been a risk. Besides this place was abandoned and covered with moss and ivy on the outside. The inside however, housed a small kitchen, a bedroom, a living area, a bathroom and a numerous amount of weapons hidden in places only an assassin or someone alike, would think to look. She had to thank Rowan for thinking of the last thing. When she'd set off to save Dorian, he'd accompanied her as far as the safe house, a bag filled with weapons that he could hide for later use. In her worry for Dorian, Celaena had forgotten even the smallest details; it was lucky she had someone like Rowan with her. He had sent her a message about a day before she reached the castle telling her he was heading back to the queen's territory. Was she in need of any help, she was to ask him immediately. Celaena smiled at the thought. As they neared the safe house, she reeled the reins in, stopping the tired horse and patting its neck gently. Dorian moved to jump down from the saddle.

"Careful! Your leg," she admonished.

"Right. Sorry," he murmured, slipping off the equestrian animal slowly.

Celaena narrowed her eyes. He seemed preoccupied. Like he was thinking about something. Or trying not to. He bit his lip and his beautiful blue eyes hardened as he glared at the ground. Her second guess had been correct. He was trying to prevent memories from the last few weeks of entering his mind. It would incapacitate him. The assassin didn't know the details, but Chaol had told her that a girl he had loved had been killed and that a collar of the black stone that had been used to control Kaltain was kept around his neck. From what she saw he hadn't eaten much either. Probably starved. She reached for his hand then, wrapping his calloused fingers around her own and tugging gently.

"Lets go inside." she whispered softly. She needed to look at his leg and make sure it wasn't infected. They both also had a scores of cuts on them, courtesy of Perrington's guards. She had a particularly long one up her side and the prince had received a slash on his shoulder and across his stomach. They sported many smaller ones but those were the ones that needed to be immediately attended to. He gave her a tight nod and let her pull him into the house. It was dark but Rowan had hung oil lamps in every room and on the small flight of stairs, bless him. A matchbox was hidden behind the frame of a picture in the living room, above the small couch. Grabbing a few and handing some to Dorian, the two walked around the house, lighting the lamps and pulling the hastily hung cloth that passed for curtains over the windows. When they were done, Celaena dragged him up to the bedroom and started a hot bath in the tiny tub of the adjoining bathroom.

"We need to take care of your wounds," she stated.

"You've got quite a few yourself."

"Nothing too bad," she assured, "Just this cut on my side. It's a shallow one too."

He looked unconvinced.

She sighed, "Look, your the worse off of both of us, you first. Then we'll look at mine. Sound good?"

"Alright," he acquiesced with a slow nod, but turned to give her a sheepish smile, "Is there…anything we can eat?"

She slammed a palm on her forehead. Food. Of course _that _was what she'd forgotten. He ought to be starved. She herself, was in need of a small meal at the least. Though she felt as though she could eat a fully prepared castle banquet feast.

"There should be some in the kitchen. I'll go get it," she grumbled, annoyed at herself for letting something so basic slip away from her.

When she returned with some bread, cheese, and butter, she almost dropped it all on the floor in surprise. Dorian stood with his back to her, examining the tiny crystal bottles of medicine he'd stolen from the castle, leaning his weight on the small dresser. But what caught her off guard was that he wasn't wearing _a shirt_.

"What. Are you doing?" she asked.

He turned to look at her, and seeing the startled look on her face he grinned, "You said you wanted to look at my wounds." He shrugged referring to the cut running from his left pectoral across his abdomen.

But she wasn't listening to what he said. She was staring at his mouth. At the grin that curled it upwards. Again. Too perfect. He wasn't going to hold like this forever. That's when she saw it, as he turned back around, a jagged scar running across his back. She stretched her free hand out to touch it, her fingers fluttering over the warm skin on his back. He didn't say anything, shivering lightly when her fingers traced his spine.

"Where…when did you get this?" she asked.

"I'm the Crown Prince of Adarlan," he said with a humorless laugh, "You really don't think anyone's tried to kill me before?"

At that Celaena's eyes shot up, her hand freezing where it was on his back.

"Someone tried to…" she muttered questioningly.

He nodded, maintaining eye contact with her as the gears whirled in her head.

"But when you saw my whip scars, you were talking about how awful they were." she said, remembering.

"They are. You told me that some scars were more visible than others. I never said I didn't have any visible scars of my own."

That much was true. Though he'd looked truly horrified at her scars, he'd never denied having any of his own.

She answered with a simple, "Oh," her hand dropping from his back.

"Anyways we have to look at your leg," she said, shaking her head to clear it.

He nodded, and they walked into the bathroom, sitting opposite each other on two stools that had been under the kitchen counter. The prince propped his foot up on the edge of the now filled bathtub, tugging away the cloth Celaena had wrapped around it. What lay beneath was a bloody mess. There was no major swelling, but the cut was deep. The first thing she needed to do was get the poison out. True to his earlier statement, the amount of poison the knife had been dipped in couldn't have been fatal, and because of his quick thinking, the most it could have affected was his leg. The poison would have already bled out had they let it, but because they had wrapped it up, the blood had clotted significantly, keeping the poison inside his leg.

"This may hurt after a bit," she mumbled, focusing hard. His leg had gone numb due to the venomous substance in his leg, so when the poison was bled out and lost its effect, it would hurt. _A lot_. Dipping a cloth into the water, she cleaned the blood away. As soon as this happened, with nothing to stop it, blood flowed freely from the wound, staining the water around it. He stared at it frowning. He still couldn't feel anything. The blood that was poisoned had a brighter color, shining a strange orangey red as it dripped into the tub. That's when it happened. He grit his teeth and threw his head back, keeling over a moment later as a growl ripped from his throat. The poison was gone, along with the numbness, leaving an immense pain in his right thigh.

"Damn it," he swore, his hands in fists, nails cutting into his palms. It was a cunning trick. The poison had a multiplier effect, meaning that even though it was gone from his system, it had left more pain than an actual knife wound would have had. But that also allowed Celaena to identify the poison, dreyerthistle. Dreyerthistle was a plant with numbing poison that could be found in the fields near Eyllwe. Perrington would have had a long way to travel to get his hands on it. But it was an easy to cure poison. Just a dab of silverweed mixed with red wine would do the trick. Silverweed was a common cure in Adarlan and Dorian had swiped two bottles of it. Mixing it in a bowl with some of the wine she'd found in the cabinets of the kitchen, Celaena grabbed a fresh cloth and began to gently treat the cut. The prince hissed through his gritted teeth. The downfall was that it hurt even more. His breathing began to slow as Celaena finished applying the medicine. Pulling bandages out from behind the mirror to wrap his leg and draining the red water from the tub. She then cleaned the rest of his cuts, applying the medicine here ad there, but it didn't hurt a regular wound so the prince wad in no more pain. When she finished she moved to clean up Dorian shook his head.

"You forgot about you," he said, pointing to the line of blood staining her side.

Nodding, Celaena handed him the cure and the towel, shrugging her cloak off and pulling her shirt off her head. Dorian's cheeks went red but he kept his eyes trained on her cut and cleaned it. When their wounds were bandaged, Celaena pulled fresh clothes out of the dresser after hiding the vials of medicine from the palace.

Tossing a bundle of black to him she said, "You shower first. The bandages are by the sink."

He nodded and proceeded to the bathroom. Rowan had left them two sets of clothes each. Ones to wear at night and ones to wear for day. It was a luxury she, nor the prince had had in a while. They had both been wearing the same clothes for a while now, and she felt dirty all of a sudden, having the urge to soak in water for an entire day. Dorian came out after ten minutes, and Celaena was glad to see he looked much better in the tight fitted black shirt and sweat pants he was wearing. She handed him a plate on which she'd spread the cheese and butter over the bread and skipped to the bathroom, excited to wash away the layers of grime she felt as though were on her. When she returned, practically glowing in her own dark set of soft, comfy clothes, Dorian was sitting on the kitchen counter downstairs, still eating. He bit into his bread with a thoughtful look written on his face. Looking up as she sat next to him on the counter he smiled.

"You look happy."

"I feel so clean," she grinned.

"So. How long are we staying here?"

"We need you to recover your strength and get a better hold of your magic. Also, you need to revisit sword training," she stated.

Dorian had been as good as Chaol once. Maybe even better. But he'd grown rusty with his years by the bookshelves. It wasn't hard to pick up though. He just needed some practice.

"Actually we both could use some training in magic," she said, holding up her hands and imagining the turquoise flames that rose from them.

"But you," she continued, "You have raw magic. An extremely powerful kind. If you learn how to use it and brush up on your sword fighting, you'll be the most deadly mage we have on our side."

He nodded his understanding, "So will you. But I'm guessing you say that because I'll have the ability to fight in both a close and far range."

Celaena nodded. She was a force to be reckoned with of course, and her sword fighting skill was on par with Chaol, but her magic was a far range type. True she could set fire to anything around her, but flames were more effective in large quantities. Dorian's ability to shape his ice magic into anything he wished, would allow him to use it effectively in a close range battle as well.

"I almost forgot," she said, swing off the counter and dusting her hands on her pants, "Come here."

He obliged, following after her with curiosity burning in his veins. The assassin walked over to the living area, where she reached under the frame of the couch and pulled out a sheathed sword.

"This is for you," she said, handing it to him.

He pulled the blade out slowly. It was gorgeous. The metal beautifully crafted and weighted to match him perfectly. He'd always preferred a blade that wasn't too light, nor too heavy. The handle was simple enough and the cross guard was neat with no engravings but a single, minuscule circle on the side. But he knew that circle. It meant that the weapon he held was one that could be infused with magic. He could channel his power through the sword if he wished. He also knew who had gotten it for him.

"Chaol," he whispered, his fingers tracing the blade. He raised his eyes to meet Celaena's. She nodded. And this time, when he smiled, it was real.

**Well that's the end of that. And someone one tried to kill Dorian in his past :O YAY MYSTERY. Chapter 4 will be up soon and in the mean time thanks for the reviews you guys posted! They were really sweet :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! I'm terrible, I know :( I'm so sorry, I thought I'd have time to upload before exams, but I had a lot of studying to do and I'm sorryyyyyyy. :( You're all extremely supportive though and I really appreciate it. Thank you so much for all the kind comments and reviews. For those of you who were so excited about the next chapter, here it is! I'm so sorry. Enjoy :)**

She'd known there'd be nightmares. But she hadn't expected it to be like this.

There was only one bedroom so the two had to share the bed. At first, Dorian had offered to take the couch but she'd waved off his concerns, practically forcing him into the bed. She had thought the reason behind his offer was that it would be awkward for them both, but no, he had predicted this. He hadn't wanted her to see if his predictions were correct.

Tired from their long hours of riding, both the assassin and the prince had fallen into a slumber. For a while, both continued to sleep in blissful unawareness, until the dreams started. They were horrible. _Dorian found himself back in the throne room, saw the arrow fire at Chaol's throat. But this time he was too late. He watched as the gleaming tip of the arrow pierced the skin just above the captain's collarbone, saw his golden eyes widen as blood fell in a scarlet stream down his throat, did nothing as his eyes moved to the prince and mouthed the same words he had said before leaving that day, _'I love you.' _Then Chaol's body hit the ground and Dorian heard an awful gut-wrenching noise, realizing that it was him, screaming for his dead friend, his brother, begging him to open his eyes. And he did. But they were not his eyes. Celaena's gold rimmed eyes stared back at him as he felt the ground beneath him change from marble to dirt. She lay there on the ground, a dagger in her stomach as the battle raged on around them, her blood darkening the earth around her, drenching his own hands in a deep, red shade as he tried to stop the bleeding. She lifted her hand, touching his face and smiling. No. No, not her too. He opened his mouth to form her name and suddenly, the Crown Prince found himself floating. Celaena was gone and his surroundings changed yet again. There was no one with him. He turned around and that's when he saw it. Himself. Standing in a pool of blood with dead eyes and cruel grin, wiping blood of the corner of his mouth. It was not his own blood. _

"Dorian. Dorian!" Celaena was shaking him, trying to get him to stop thrashing. He shot upwards into a sitting position, breathing hard. Celaena was straddling his hips. She'd been attempting to wake him up while also keeping his wild movements to a minimum. Face to face with her now, Dorian buried his face in her shoulders, blue eyes wide, his entire body shaking. The assassin wasted no time in wrapping her arms around him, lifting one hand and carding it through his dark, curly locks. She knew from experience that words would not help until he calmed down. Her first priority was getting him to realize that he was okay, everyone was here, and that nothing had happened. As his heart rate began to slow, she tugged lightly on his hair, pulling his head back so she could look into his eyes. Seeing the terror there she felt like a child once more. Shivering in the cold with only the memory of waking up in her parents' blood, surrounded by the corpses who had previously been telling her bedtime stories. The dead bodies of the king and queen of Terrasen. Shaking the thoughts away, Adarlan's Assassin pulled herself back to the present and looked once more into the prince's tired eyes. "What happened? Who got hurt?" she asked. Instead of answering he asked her, "When Roland and Kaltain were wearing the rings, my father and his colleagues were able to control their thoughts and the like. What do you think they did with me?" Celaena sighed. She had been entertaining the possibility herself. When Dorian was wearing a full collar of that awful stone, had they forced him to do something. A ring itself had been effective, but an entire collar? He would have been their own personal puppet to toy with as they pleased. Had she not rescued Dorian, there was the chance that the king would have him used as a soldier, which would be a massive disadvantage to those who rebelled against Adarlan. Dorian was powerful. He just didn't know how to unleash that yet. She slipped her fingers through his curls once more, smiling softly as he leaned into her touch with closed eyes.

"They might have used you for something, but I don't know if they did. They've never used whole collars before so they may have just left you in your bed-"

"I woke up with this. He tugged back the fabric on his left leg to show her a strike running from his calf to his ankle. It was a shallow knife cut. Letting it fall back into place he let out a frustrated breath, subconsciously leaning towards her hand again. He liked the feeling of her hands running through his hair. Complying to his whims, Celaena raised her hand to his locks once more. As she did, he spoke.

"An image."

"What?"

The prince took a shuddering breath, reaching for the hand tangled in his hair an wrapping his fingers around her wrist lightly.

"Before you woke me up, I saw-"

He swallowed tightly as Celaena nodded in encouragement.

"I saw…myself. I had the collar on and my eyes were emotionless, hard as stone. And I-I was," taking a breath he replied, "I was wiping blood off of my mouth. And it wasn't mine."

Celaena looked at him carefully. Off his _mouth_? That would mean- ugh she didn't even want to think about it. She stroked his cheek softly.

"We don't know that that's true."

"It is Celaena. Trust me it is. It was too real, too-too familiar," he said, cringing, "to not be real."

She nodded gently, thinking. He obviously didn't remember, but if he said it was real, it most likely was. But this wasn't something to think about now. So she climbed off his lap slowly, his hand still around her wrist. She gently loosened his fingers and let them slip up to her hand, where she intertwined their fingers, giving them a tight squeeze.

"Go back to sleep," she whispered, knowing full and well that he wouldn't, or at least he'd try not to. Nightmares left that impact. She lay down, snuggling under the covers and he stretched out on his back next to her, their intertwined hands in between them. His sapphire irises were fixed on the ceiling, her own on him. Letting out a breath Celaena curled closer to him.

"What was she like?"

Dorian turned to face her, a puzzled expression on his face, "What was who like?"

Biting her lip she answered quietly, "Sorscha I think. The healer Chaol told me you fell in love with."

Turning his head back towards the ceiling Dorian opened his mouth and closed it again, seemingly at a loss for words.

"She was…she was…I don't know," he let out in a frustrated huff, "She was sweet and shy and kind and a great healer. That's what I thought. Simple as that. But was she really? I didn't know. That she was a rebel spy, that she had been keeping an eye on my father for _years _and reporting to some guy. She told me she hadn't written about me and I believed her. She didn't but…it makes me wonder if I really even knew her at all. She was completely different from who I thought she was. So what if her personality was different too. I mean I don't know…I never really got the chance to meet the actual Sorscha."

"But you still pleaded for her life."

"I wanted…to give her another chance. Even if I didn't know her, I wanted to at least give this girl who had the guts to oppose my father, a chance at starting a new life. Another chance at living. She deserved it. I on the other hand, am a coward. Can't even work up the nerve to act against my own tyrannical father."

"But you did. When it really matters you did, Dorian. You became the king you were meant to be, protecting Chaol and asking for Sorscha's life. You did what any king, loyal to his subjects would have done. So you are most definitely not a coward. And together, together we will defeat the king. We're going to beat your father. We will win."

He turned to look into her eyes then, fierce and determined, the golden outer ring blazing with life. That's when he realized their proximity. She was closer than before. He couldn't help his eyes darting down quickly to her soft, pink lips. But he couldn't do that right now. He needed time. He needed to know where they stood. So pulling back slightly he smiled and nodded. They were going to tear the king down.

"There's a poem you know:

_Some say the world will end in fire,_

_Some say in ice._

_From what I've tasted of desire_

_I hold with those who favor fire._

_But if it had to perish twice,_

_I think I know enough of hate_

_To say that for destruction ice_

_Is also great_

_And would suffice,_" he recited

"We're neither. We're brining this kingdom down in an explosion of fire and ice."

Celaena nodded, a smile forming on her lips, "It's going to be a damn big explosion too."

He laughed. It was only a light chuckle but to Celaena it was the most reassuring sound in the world. Whatever happened he would heal. She would heal. They would all heal. Together. The same way, they would fight together. With that thought in mind she fell asleep.

—

Dorian had slept in fits throughout the rest of the night, finally unable to doze off at around six o'clock in the morning. So he has just lain there for another hour or so until Celaena had begun to stir.

"Rise and shine Sleeping Beauty," he grinned.

"Shut up," she mumbled hitting him with her pillow.

Successfully slamming it down on him, the assassin attempted sleep once more, her weight now falling on his chest. Laughing, Dorian reached up his free hand to tickle under her neck. She growled at him, scowling, but finally got up as his hand neared the sensitive spot near her left hip.

"Your an ass," she glared, running her fingers through her messy morning hair.

"Language, most dear assassin," he replied, tapping her nose.

She crinkled her nose and got up, trudging to the bathroom, "There's food in the kitchen. Eat," she ordered, before slamming the door shut. Not before he could slip in a whiny, "Morning Celaena's bossy," with a fake pout on his lips.

"I heard that!," she yelled from the other side of the door.

Laughing, he leaped out of bed before she could run out and catch him and booked it down the staircase, Adarlan'd Assassin yelling bloody murder with a hairbrush behind him. As she returned to the bathroom, frowning and mumbling some very unsightly things under her breath, Dorian walked over to the living area, reaching under the couch cushions and pulling out the sword Chaol had sent for him once more. Pulling it out, he swung it around a few times, testing it's mobility, before setting into one of the old drills that Brullo had repeatedly had them practicing when they were younger. It was basic, but effective. A simple exercise in which you moved the sword in preplanned strokes, fake parrying whenever necessary. He picked up speed, adding in little things here and there where he saw fit. A simple flick upwards after a particularly good parry and your opponent's throat was slit. He spun the blade on his fingertips, enjoying the feel of it. He'd missed this. Having a weapon in his hand, swinging it around freely. Swordplay was an art, one that once mastered, could be changed to suit a person's own taste. Though Chaol was an exceptional swordsman, Dorian's style had always been speed. He was light on his feet, so he'd whirl and when he saw an opening, would immediately feint a strike in order to dart at light speed around his opponent and run them through before they had a chance to move. He was like a hummingbird while fighting, quick and fluid in his movements. He never paused. After parrying he would instantly draw his sword away to try and strike once more, something most opponents weren't always ready for. Slipping into the familiar routine, Dorian whirled and twisted and flicked his sword left, right, up, and down.

"Do take care not to destroy the furniture," a sarcastic voice said from the doorway, "I like that couch."

Dorian turned, breathing hard, to grin at Celaena, who was leaning against the wall watching. He was a magnificent swordsman. His skills were a bit rusty, yes, but he was extremely fast. A trained soldier or assassin would be the only one able to keep up with those strikes, and she was pretty sure a few of those could have nicked her herself a couple times. His shirt clung to his skin, as he sheathed his sword and followed her to the kitchen. Hopping onto the counter he smiled, "So what's for breakfast?"

"I'm not your mom," she said, sending him a playful glare. She pointed accusingly at him then, "Your covered in sweat. Go take a shower."

"Aww you sure," he said, and in seconds he was on the floor a foot away from her arms spread wide. She reacted just as quickly, her feet planted for a quick escape out the kitchen door. Pointing a wooden spoon at him, she said, "Stay where you are."

Grinning almost evilly, he picked up a wooden utensil of his own and held it up in front of him, "En gaurde."

Celaena giggled as they fenced about the small kitchen with their wooden utensils as swords. At one point, seeing an opening, Celaena knocked his "sword" away, raising her hands in victory. She hadn't prepared for what happened next. As soon as the utensil was out of his hands he was across the kitchen, wrapping his arms around her smaller frame and pressing her into him.

"Oh gross!" she exclaimed, pounding on his chest, "You sweaty little ass!"

He laughed, "You asked for it."

"No. No I most definitely did not."

"You sure about that?"

Freeing one hand from his bear-like grip she whacked his head with her wooden spoon.

"By the Wyrd, go take a shower you unhygienic bastard."

"Going, going," he chuckled as she shoved him out of the kitchen.

As he trudged up the stairs Celaena smiled to herself. It was nice to see him like that. Carefree once more. If only they could always be like that. Sighing softly she turned to go wash her wooden spoon. Hearing the sound of something flying through the air, Celaena held out her spoon just in time to ward a sweaty shirt from hitting her in the face.

"I'm coming for you Dorian Havilliard!"

The bathroom door slammed above and she could hear him trying to lock it.

Too bad there was no lock.

**Yay! So a bit of a longer chapter, but the next one's going to be very long I assure you. I'm super sorry for the wait. I thought this chapter I would mix some seriousness in with the old fun-loving Celaena and Dorian we all know and love :) The next chapter will start to go into more things, I know the last two have been kind of laid back. And for those thirsting for Rowan, He will come! I will make sure of it. I thirst for him too :) Have a great day, the next chapter will hopefully be up my next week!**


End file.
